


Now We Can See In The Dark

by skyline



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Barebacking, Big Time Crush, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-26
Updated: 2011-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Girls are mean. What if I have sex with Megan, and she hates me, and it ruins kiwis for me forever? Or what if I end up with Candy and start hating candy?” Carlos looks horrified by the very thought. “I love candy, Kendall. I love it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now We Can See In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at the request of Tadzio Ritsuka at ffn, who sweet-talked me into filling a prompt from the btr kink meme with shameless flattery. Now, little did I know when I agreed to take the prompt on that kirbylicious already completed an amazing fic that filled every parameter of it. Luckily, she graciously allowed me to continue writing this, because she is awesomesauce. Many, many, many props to jblostfan16, who basically stroked my ego until I agreed to post this- otherwise it would never have graced the internet with it's presence, man. She is also an ever-manificent beta. 
> 
> The actual prompt, loosely interpreted was: Carlos is a bit nervy about his first time. Kendall wants to fuck him, but once he sees how nervous Carlos is, he decides to top. Carlos comes first, Kendall doesn't care (actual prompt is here). But the meme isn't why I wrote this. On August 18th,

"Candy’s pretty. And her name’s Candy. She has an edible name, Kendall.” Carlos says thoughtfully, kicking his feet through the unnatural, chlorinated blue of the Palm Woods Pool. The sun has spent most of the day beating down on the concrete, and it’s hot and it’s sticky and Kendall has been listening to Carlos debate with himself for close to _half an hour_.  
  
He’s bored.  
  
“So what’s the problem?” Kendall doesn’t mean to sound snappy. He just wants Carlos to make an actual decision already. He would kind of like to take a shower before he hits up the movies with Jo.  
  
Carlos tilts his head to the side. “Megan’s pretty too. And she smells like a kiwi.”  
  
Kendall rakes both of his hands through his hair, giving Carlos what he hopes is clearly a frustrated, annoyed look meant to intimidate him into choosing a date already.  
  
Carlos does what he’s best at and completely ignores Kendall’s ire. He’s got his dress slacks rolled up to his knees, the buttons of his starched shirt half undone. His sweater is lying haphazardly across wet concrete, absorbing the puddle left by someone else’s footprints.  
He’s a disaster.  
  
“I really like kiwis.”  
  
Kendall does not buy this blissfully dense routine. Not for a minute.  
  
Maybe he’s not being understanding enough, but he doesn’t get it. Carlos might be an actual walking, talking disaster of a boy, but he’s _adorable_ , and he’s _charming_ , and he really has got a good head on his shoulders when he remembers to actually use it. Carlos is so dateable, and Kendall just can’t understand why he keeps driving girls away. He doesn’t want his best friend to turn into a seventeen year old spinster; complete with cats and knitting needles and Friday night soap opera marathons, but that is exactly what Carlos seems to want.  
  
It’s driving Kendall insane.  
  
“Why are you purposely sabotaging this? Just choose a girl and-“  
  
“Easy for you to say.”  
  
“It _is_ easy! What about this isn’t easy?”  
  
“Do you know what girls want to do at movies?”  
  
Kendall frowns, wiggling his toes beneath the surface of the pool. He didn’t come prepared for a quiz. “Kiss?”  
  
“After that.”  
  
“Steal all your popcorn?” Kendall asks, because that’s pretty much been his experience with Jo.  
  
“After that!”  
  
Kendall isn’t really sure what comes after kissing and popcorn-stealing, so he crosses his arms and tries to look wise. Carlos completely misses the fact that Kendall’s oblivious, because Carlos is under the impression that Kendall knows everything.  
  
Kendall prefers to keep it that way.  
  
Eyes widening, Carlos hisses, “I’m not ready for sex!”  
  
What?  
  
Kendall blinks. Um. He wiggles his toes some more. His jeans are getting wet, but whatever. How is he going to phrase this? “Dude, no one expects you to put out on the first date.”  
  
Or the second or the third or the fifty third. That’s also been his experience with Jo.  
  
Carlos looks away, towards the places where the sun peeks over the tops of the palm trees. The first blush of sunset is just beginning to touch down over Hollywood. It turns everything golden-orange, including Carlos. Kendall wants to stroke a hand over his cheek and reassure him.  
  
Then Carlos turns back to face him, eyes dark and serious. Soft and low, he asks, “But what if they do?”  
  
The words reverberate in Kendall’s bones, equal parts promise, excitement, and fear. Thickly, he swallows. Carlos makes these strange transitions from boy to man in the space of a second, and sometimes Kendall doesn’t know how to handle them. It’s unsettling. He goes from being a person Kendall wants to protect to a person that Kendall wants to put his hands all over.  
  
Kendall really wishes Carlos would make up his mind already; choose to stay Peter Pan, or fly away from Neverland forever.  
  
“They won’t.”  
  
“You don’t know that.” Just as easily, Carlos slips back into the kid Kendall knows how to deal with, the pretty little innocent instead of the attractive, flawed man. “Girls are mean. What if I have sex with Megan, and she hates me, and it ruins kiwis for me forever? Or what if I end up with Candy and start hating candy?” Carlos looks horrified by the very thought. “I love candy, Kendall. I _love_ it.”  
  
“You’re overreacting. Carlos, sex isn’t a big deal.”  
  
Probably. It’s been such a long time since Kendall has had any that he’s having trouble recalling.  
  
Which he totally doesn’t blame Jo for. It’s not like Kendall’s desperate for sex, and Jo is a busy girl. She’s always got work. Or stuff to do with Camille. Kendall doesn’t exactly know what _stuff_ entails, other than a lot of subversive giggling. He’s thought about asking, but the second Camille’s name enters the conversation, he checks out.  
  
She scares him.  
  
The look Carlos levels Kendall with is way more skeptical than he has any right to be. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.” Kendall cranes his head up, the glint of an airplane flying too low catching his eye. “I can prove it, if you want.”  
  
He doesn’t know why he says the words. He doesn’t mean anything other than a peer pressure I’m-cool-be-cool-like-me phrase, an if-I-can-do-it-anyone-can assurance. That’s not how it sounds. Kendall doesn’t do awkward, but now those words are out there, in the world.  
  
Making things awkward.  
  
“Prove it? Seriously?” Carlos’s eyes flash with heat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, hard. “How?”  
  
He’s flustered, and that makes Kendall stop and think. He’s got a vague inkling of an idea; this uncomfortable knot in his stomach, hair standing up on the back of his neck. He feels like he’s touching a light socket, like the very concept of what he’s thinking has some kind of wicked, uncontrollable power. Mouth dry, he chokes out, “Come with me.”  
  
“Come with you where? Maybe we should stay out here. In the sunlight. With people,” Carlos stumbles over his sentences. His fingers are digging into the concrete, and shit. Did Kendall go too far? He doesn’t even know where he was going with that invitation. He can’t actually want to give Carlos a practical demonstration.  
  
Can he?  
  
Carlos pulls his legs up out of the water, the hair on the side of his calves golden-brown and dripping with water. Kendall watches a drop trace its way down to Carlos’s ankle, and he’s the one swallowing hard now. His gaze follows the curve of Carlos’s leg back upwards, up, up, along his chest to the broad planes of his shoulders beneath his button down.  
  
Yeah, okay.  
  
Kendall’s definitely thinking about all kinds of nasty things.  
  
Here comes more awkward.  
  
“Just- come on.”  
  
Kendall climbs to his feet, and while he doesn’t exactly make grabby hands at Carlos, he’s not the definition of patience. It’s this itch in the back of his head, this sudden strain in his jeans. Why didn’t he think of this before? He’s a fantastic teacher.  
  
Well. There was that one time in fifth grade where Kendall was convinced he could teach Logan how to fight bullies that ended up with Logan needing to get veneers, but whatever. One blip in an otherwise perfect record does not lessen his teaching abilities. It just means Logan really should stick to chess.  
  
Carlos grabs Kendall’s hand. He bounces up to his feet, throwing the soaking wet, dorky cashmere sweater up over his head and ducking into it, like he can disappear.  
  
“Hey. None of that,” Kendall pushes the sweater back onto Carlos’s shoulders. Sunset’s touching everything with the softest orange-pink-purple now, shadows and color that deepen all the lines on Carlos’s face. Kendall brushes his fingers soft against Carlos’s cheekbone. “Trust me?”  
  
It’s almost imperceptible, but Carlos nods. He tries to shove his hands into his pockets, but Kendall won’t let him, clinging to him, even though they’re surrounded by everyone they know. It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve held hands in the middle of the Palm Woods.  
  
Kendall tries to keep his pace measured as they make their way towards the elevators and on up to 2J, but by the time they reach the hallway he’s practically dragging his best friend behind him. Carlos’s hand is clammy in his grasp. Kendall fumbles with the doorknob, trying to figure out which way to twist and why is it sticking? Stupid door. He kicks the wood, forcing it open and yanks Carlos inside. From there it’s a mad dash down the hall and into his room.  
  
“Kendall,” Carlos pants, trying to pinpoint what’s going on here. “Dude, slow down-“  
  
Kendall crushes their mouths together.  
  
As far as kisses go, it’s not one of the best he’s ever participated in. Carlos is kind of just standing there, stunned, and Kendall’s never been this eager for anything in his life. He mouths at Carlos’s lips until Carlos makes this absolutely wounded noise and kisses back, fisting his hands in the front of Kendall’s t-shirt and eliminating all the space between their bodies.  
  
Carlos isn’t bad at this kissing thing, and Kendall knew that already, somewhere in the back of his head. He’s watched Carlos kiss girls during high school games of spin the bottle and drunken dares; this small, covetous part of his brain watching and waiting and wanting.  
Carlos runs his tongue along Kendall’s teeth, gasping against his lips and it’s all a little bit overpowering. Kendall’s overloading on the taste and the scent and the feel of his best friend, choking on all the emotions he didn’t even realize he was keeping in check.  
  
Standing gets to be hard, what with the oxygen deprivation making his knees go weak. Kendall pushes Carlos down onto his bed, hands fumbling over the front of his shirt. He can’t figure out how to get it off, which is a little ridiculous considering there are buttons down the front of it. It’s like his brain signals are getting all mixed up.  
  
Kendall’s jeans are uncomfortable; hot and tight and he’d really like to get them off now, and it would really help if Carlos would stop looking at him that way. Every time they break for air it’s like Kendall is the only thing that exists, and Kendall is used to adoration, he is, but he does not know what to do with pure, unadulterated need.  
  
He figures out the mechanics of Carlos’s button down, and manages to shove it off his shoulders. Carlos’s chest is this caramel-honey color that he wants to put his hands all over. He’s kind of occupied with staring at it when Carlos gathers Kendall into his lap, and okay. Girls don’t usually do that. Carlos is still on with the staring and Kendall’s panting kind of hard, this ragged noise that catches in his throat.  
There’s this buzz in the air between them, this thickness that’s making it hard to breathe. Kendall smoothes his thumbs along Carlos’s eyebrow, fingers resting against the contours of his cheekbones. Carlos’s tongue darts out, playful, wet against the heel of Kendall’s palm, and then they’re kissing again. Kendall’s dominating the kiss, coaxing these tiny, whimpering noises out of Carlos’s throat, but he’s got this weird feeling. Carlos is a perfect clay statue of a boy beneath his fingers; absolutely pliant, but Kendall thinks and he knows that there’s something more there.  
  
Carlos is _letting_ him lead the way.  
  
Kendall can feel Carlos’s fingertips digging into his ass, can feel the press of heat and the way that Carlos is guiding him forward, helping. The texture of Carlos’s skin beneath his fingers is soft, smooth, sun warm. Kendall nuzzles his face into Carlos’s neck, sucking at the place where it connects with his collarbone. And then Carlos takes initiative; he pops the top button of Kendall’s jeans, his dark eyes scanning Kendall’s face, like he’s checking to see if it’s okay. Kendall ruts his hips forward, until his dick is right up against Carlos’s hand.  
  
After that, Carlos is braver. He shimmies Kendall’s jeans down his hips, shoving when they get caught somewhere around his thighs. Kendall fumbles with Carlos’s belt, straddling his thighs all the while. Whenever their hips twitch together it is lightning, it is this unbearable electricity that Kendall needs miles more of. He kisses Carlos’s neck and his collarbone, down his chest, tongue dipping into his belly button. Kendall scoots backwards until he’s at the edge of the bed, his knees on either side of Carlos’s. His ankles dangle in thin air. He licks along the treasure trail of hair leading down into Carlos’s slacks. He can feel heat against his chin, seeping through the fabric. His runs his fingers along the cloth covering the zipper, feeling a hard, insistent press in reply, and he did this. He turned Carlos on this much.  
Kendall’s pretty proud of himself.  
  
There’s a bottle of lube under Kendall’s pillow, which may or may not have seen a lot of use. Kendall fumbles for it, lips pressed beneath Carlos’s navel. He reaches up past Carlos’s head, straining because they’re half on, half off the bed in this weird tangle. Carlos’s legs are dangling off the end. When Kendall feels plastic in his hand, he grins. Then he tugs at the faster of Carlos’s slacks, trying to force it through the metal.  
  
His hands have gotten all clumsy and out of sync with his brain. Who gave them permission to do that? Kendall curses and yanks at the clip until the top of Carlos’s slacks pull free.  
  
Carlos is watching Kendall like he’s a pornstar, and that Kendall can get into. He enjoys performing. He pulls the zipper of Carlos’s shorts down with his teeth.  
  
The front of Carlos’s boxer shorts has splotches of dampness, places where precum has already leaked through. His dick is straining against the fabric. Kendall mouths against Carlos’s dick through his boxers, breathing hot over the head just to listen to him moan. Kendall didn’t expect this to be as sexy as it is.  
  
He inches Carlos’s boxers down his hips, this slow tease that reveals the shape and the color and the thickness of Carlos’s cock. Kendall licks his lips, thinking about all the different ways that he could make Carlos squirm. And then he licks a stripe up the shaft of Carlos’s dick, just to watch the shudder that wracks through his body. God, this is going to be so much fun.  
  
He sucks Carlos’s dick into his mouth, tongue flat against the head. Kendall traces the contour of it, licking to the left, curling his tongue over. Carlos is fisting the sheets, his face scrunched up, gasping. Kendall can feel the muscles in his thighs tense up, strong under his fingertips. He circles his tongue the rest of the way around, flicking soft over the slit in the center. And then he dips down, skimming his teeth feather light against the shaft of Carlos’s cock, just for a beat, just to make Carlos yelp and thrust up.  
  
Kendall can feel him in the back of his mouth, bumping up against his throat. Everything tastes like the salty-sweet tang of Carlos’s precum. Kendall skims back up and goes deeper on the downturn. He’s clumsy, but he’s gauging Carlos’s reactions to everything he does. Kendall’s always been a quick learner.  
  
It’s this combination of speed and hard suck that gets Carlos writhing, hands fisting at Kendall’s hair, pulling so hard he thinks it’s going to come out by the roots. Kendall figures that now’s as good a time as any to move forward. He curls his fingers up under Carlos’s balls, backtracking until he’s touching tight muscle. He presses his finger forward, testing. Carlos squirms, ass clenching, “Whoa, wait, what? I-“  
  
Kendall pops his mouth off of Carlos’s dick with a popping noise. Carlos follows the movement, and he wonders how fucked his mouth looks, all red and raw.  
  
“Trust me.”  
  
Kendall’s watched porn. He knows what’s what.  
  
But Carlos doesn’t. He’s a total virgin. Kendall shouldn’t find that so hot, but he does. He can’t help thinking about how fucking tight and desperate he’s going to be. He wants to do this. He wants to do it now. He surges up and kisses Carlos, heavy and hot, tracing his finger around the skin of Carlos’s asshole. His free hand makes a play for the lube near Carlos’s thigh, and he pops it open, slicking up his palm one-handed.  
  
He’s got skill, man.  
  
At least he learned something after so many lonely nights.  
  
Carlos drops his head onto Kendall’s shoulder, breathing hard. He mumbles, “Is it gonna hurt?”  
  
The words make Kendall pause. Carlos is freaked out.  
  
Not the kind of freaked out Kendall is used to seeing, the James-stole-my-corndog or Logan-told-me-the-sun-is-going-to-die expression that makes him pout like a small child. This is something more honest, a strain at the edges of his eyes and the worry of teeth over his lips. It’s the expression Carlos wears when his dad is out too late on the job, when sirens scream across the television and the news says things like _shots were fired_. Carlos hides the parts of him that are masculine, that are grown up beneath the façade of his Peter Pan complex, and he’s such a good actor that sometimes even Kendall forgets there’s more to him. But now, with Carlos’s eyes cutting into him, dark with lust, wide with uncertainty, Kendall remembers. This isn’t just his childhood best buddy or a boy who wants to get laid. It’s a moment that matters, a thing that will always, always be important long after they go back to being just friends.  
  
Kendall fixes things. It’s what he’s best at. And he’s going to fix this for Carlos. At the very least, he thinks he can put them on even ground.  
  
“Hey, no. Look at me.”  
  
Carlos freezes, eyes going wide. His hands are hovering in midair like he’s scared to touch anything. Kendall groans, shoving the hand that isn’t all messy through his hair. “Fuck me.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I want you to fuck me,” Kendall says. The words come out steady, sharp edged, but there are fine tremors running through his entire body. It’s his turn to be scared. He’s imagined this, maybe, once or twice, but never actively. He’s never been finger fucked, much less anything else. Tentative, he slides one of his fingers back around, testing the waters, trying to figure out how to stretch himself.  
  
Carlos grabs his elbow and breathes, “No. Let me do it.”  
  
Quietly, Kendall passes Carlos the bottle of lube. He slips out of his own boxers and t-shirt and settles back into Carlos’s lap, legs splayed over his thighs. He’s even more hesitant now that he’s completely naked. Carlos keeps glancing down between them, grazing his hands over the red of Kendall’s cock, thumbing the shiny drops of precum that bead at the tip. Kendall wants to tell him to just get it over with already. He’s nervous, and he’s exposed, and he’s not sure what to do with Carlos when he’s not talking.  
  
Because Carlos isn’t, he’s not saying _anything_.  
  
He looks worried.  
  
He looks strong.  
  
Kendall kisses Carlos’s throat and squeezes his eyes shut.  
  
The first finger hurts; even short nails are sharp and Kendall’s not exactly used to the feeling. But he lets Carlos tease him open, finger by finger until Kendall’s having trouble differentiating between the uncomfortable pressure and the little sparks of pleasure that dance along the surface of his skin. Carlos curls his fingers and it’s like he presses this button inside of Kendall, this place that’s got a fast track to his fingers and toes. Every time Carlos touches it, it’s like Kendall loses control of his limbs and all he wants is _more_. He hears this noise, and that’s him; he’s the one who’s moaning now.  
  
Carlos withdraws his fingers, shifting Kendall’s body downward a little bit and Kendall doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want the emptiness when he’s hot and he’s hard and he’s aching for it, for Carlos to just nail him already.  
  
“Kendall, please,” Carlos begs, his voice all husky and unfamiliar as he lies back, “Please,” and he’s pressing the head of his dick up  
against Kendall’s ass.  
  
It’s way bigger than Carlos’s fingertips.  
  
Kendall’s propped forward, leaning on his hands, eyes glued to the planes of Carlos’s stomach and the place where his navel dips. Carlos’s cock is hot, precum slick at the slit, and fuck. Kendall has a moment to think that he’s not ready, that he can’t actually do this. He has this moment to _absolutely fucking panic_. But then Carlos’s thumbs brush over the shape of his hipbones, and it’s okay again.  
  
He can’t quite dive into it. He tries to slide down onto Carlos, but mostly that hurts. It’s not so much of a slide as it is a rough, slow plunge that Kendall really isn’t enjoying. Carlos can see that written all across his face. He stills, and Kendall doesn’t think he would have had that kind of self control his first time. He grunts, “It’s okay,” even though it’s really not. Kendall will pretend for Carlos, if that’s what it takes to get through this.  
  
“Liar,” Carlos groans. His hands smooth down along Kendall’s thighs, warm, and then he’s thrusting his hips up in this quick, sudden motion. Kendall hisses, but Carlos is already withdrawing, already in the midst of a long, slow pull that Kendall can feel against all of his nerve endings. He tries to hitch his hips back down, to take control, and he just can’t quite get the hang of it.  
  
In movies, people make love to a soundtrack, to a song that rises and falls as they move. Every twitch of their limbs is graceful. This is not a movie. Kendall can’t figure out what to do, can’t quite adjust to the pressure and heat of Carlos inside him. He rolls his hips, but that turns into a pivot, which transforms into Carlos, clutching his hips and holding him still while he tries to thrust up. They are a scratched record, skipping tracks and jumping grooves as they try to build rhythm. And all the while Carlos is watching him, eyes smoldering, expression possessive and unfamiliar.  
  
Kendall loses track of what he’s doing, again, stilling over Carlos’s cock. He can feel Carlos inside of him, thick, hot, deep. He’s suddenly aware that he’s trembling.  
  
“Kendall,” Carlos says, his voice hoarse, his gaze magnetic. “Let me.”  
  
Carlos’s fingertips press into his hips, and he’s so much stronger than he looks. Kendall lets Carlos guide him; fucking down when his hips hitch up, taking him deeper, for longer intervals, and oh- _fuck_. It was a kind of good before, the strange intimacy and the sparks of lust, but now? Now it is fire, flames building high inside of his body until all he can feel is heat. It’s so easy to get lost in the need. All Kendall can think about is the momentum and CarlosCarlos _Carlos_.  
  
Carlos’s body goes completely rigid. Kendall can feel this wet pulse inside of him, and he presses down against it, tries to get more, but it’s too late. Carlos makes this obscene noise that trails off into a whimper and, “I’m sorry.”  
  
It actually takes Kendall a beat to realize it’s over, that Carlos actually came inside of him, and damn. His dick is going soft, where Kendall’s is still hard and red; a press against his belly.  
  
“It’s fine,” Kendall huffs, even though it’s not. Kendall is aching and empty and he needs more. He doesn’t press for it, forehead against Carlos’s chest, mouth soft against his sternum. He can still feel Carlos inside him, cum turning cold and uncomfortable against his skin.  
Kendall’s tongue traces the line of Carlos’s ribs, his dick throbbing, lust making it hard to think or feel or do anything but _want_. He tastes the sweat cooling against Carlos’s skin, flicks his tongue against Carlos’s nipple, bites a mark into the side of his pecs. Carlos groans, this low, breathy sound. His dick gives a half hearted twitch, nearly slipping out of Kendall’s ass, but Kendall reaches back, holds it there.  
Kendall wraps his free hand around his own cock, stroking fast along the shaft, watching Carlos watch him. He can feel it the second Carlos starts to get hard again, can feel the shape of his dick filling out, just barely inside of him. He rocks back against it, and that’s when Carlos grabs both of Kendall’s thighs and actually fucking flips them.  
  
Kendall’s so startled that he loses the rhythm on his own dick, hand coming to a standstill. A smile ghosts over Carlos’s lips. Their bodies are still connected, but just barely, the head of Carlos’s dick half buried inside of him. Kendall whines, and he is not actually making that noise, but he is, and Carlos is full on grinning. And then he slides into Kendall, thickening, and it’s everything that Kendall was missing. He grabs at Carlos’s ass, pulling him closer, taking him deeper and fuck, _yes_. Carlos props one arm somewhere near Kendall’s ear, leaning his other elbow just above Kendall’s shoulder and he pumps into him, rolling his hips in this steady rhythm that has Kendall hitching up to meet him, fast.  
  
Kendall doesn’t do this. He doesn’t do desperate, but he does, he is. He’s desperate for Carlos, and he’s just so fucking close. He’s got his hand between them, stroking fast and hard, and he’s squeezing tight around Carlos’s dick. He strains up, swipes his tongue across Carlos’s lips, pulling him into an actual kiss. It’s hot and it’s needy and it’s everything. He’s got Carlos in his mouth, in his body, in his lungs. Carlos groans, and Kendall’s vision goes white. He paints cum across Carlos’s chest, and it drips down the incline of his abdomen.  
Carlos doesn’t even seem to notice, withdrawing and crawling up Kendall’s body to collapse unceremoniously on top of him. He’s kind of heavy. His dick is still poking into Kendall’s side.  
  
“Don’t you, uh.” Kendall tries to catch his breath. “Want, um? You know-”  
  
Fuck it. Words are embarrassing. Kendall snakes a hand down between them and uses it, his fist tight around Carlos’s dick, moving in tight, unhurried slides until Carlos comes with a gasp, spurts of it all up and down Kendall’s skin. Kendall is definitely going to need that shower now. Whatever. He shifts his body around until he’s the one with his weight resting on Carlos, tucked into his side, his head resting neatly on Carlos’s strong shoulder.  
  
“Kendall?”  
  
“Yeah?” Kendall mumbles into Carlos’s collarbone.  
  
“That was a pretty big deal.”  
  
“Yeah,” Kendall groans. He hates it when he’s wrong.  
  
“What are we going to do?”  
  
Kendall buries his nose further into Carlos’s skin, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex and Carlos. “Right now? We’re going to get up, and you’re going to go on a date with Candy-“  
  
“I haven’t chosen yet,” Carlos objects.  
  
“-You’re going to pick Candy,” Kendall says firmly, because he’s going to be walking funny for a week, and Carlos owes him something for that.  
  
Even if he enjoyed it.  
  
A lot.  
  
“And then we’re going to go see the best makeout movie of the year.”  
  
“Together?” Carlos murmurs into his hair. There’s something about the tenor of his voice that hits Kendall in a new way, something that makes him feel like Carlos is trailing his fingertips up his spine, making him wobbly all over.  
  
“Of course together. With Candy and Jo,” Kendall adds.  
  
“What about later?” Carlos presses a lazy kiss to the top of his head, and Kendall leans up into it. He makes a noise, a little ‘ _uh_ ’ of want.  
Carlos catches his mouth, dragging his tongue along Kendall’s, his lips wet and bitten. He tastes like secrets and sunlight and something that Kendall vaguely recognizes as himself. His hands grasp at Kendall’s ass, and against Kendall’s lips he prompts, “Later?”  
  
“Just. Later.” Kendall shakes his head, trying to clear away the fog and the lust and _Carlos_. He touches his lips to Carlos’s, soft and sweet.  
  
It’s a promise.


End file.
